Post 655. Methuselah.

My paternal grandparents

One of my granddad’s art works.

One of granddad’s (Jan Oosterman) artworks.

I haven’t a clue as what to say next. Perhaps just start with a word out of the dictionary opened at random; ‘Ohm’s law.’ ‘The principle that the electric current passing through a conductor is directly proportional to the potential difference. across it.’ Well, that’s that cleared up then. It is amazing though how the world of science is so clever to come up with definitions such as Ohm’s law.

My father knew about electricity and I still remember how he tried to explain to us, ohms, volts, amps and other terms relating to electric current. I still don’t understand it thoroughly and am forever stunned by those who do. I can change light bulbs but even that is getting tricky with those two pinned ceiling light bulbs. They are supposed to last 6000 hours or more but I am sure that that is a commercial honey lure. I don’t know how changing those modern light bulbs are experienced by those over ninety. It is frightening how old age is going through the roof. In ten years time most of us will be over ninety and thousands over one hundred. Has there been a survey or poll on how many of us actually want to get that old? Or has this endless obsession with longevity more to do with getting more money and more consumers over longer periods. Perhaps there are those that want to keep going. I am not sure but am happy for everyday that passes without bouts of intestinal hurry or too spontaneous outbursts of unwarranted optimism.

I see more and more battery operated carts zooming around with the options of shopping bags in front and underneath the occupant. Isles in shops are now wider allowing not only for bigger people to shop but also accommodating the over hundred to shop in electrically driven carts. Fork out the mullah will never stop.

We went for a walk but a heatwave made it shorter than normal. We took a break midway in one of those golden- amber stained timber slatted seats overlooking the vivid green of a local cricket field. The seats have been carefully planned underneath giant oak and eucalypts surrounding the pitch. Cricket is like Ohms to me, forever doomed to inaccessibility but the lovely shade is crystal clear and instantly acceptable. A lady all dressed in a loose white cotton dress walking with a same breed of dog as our Milo stopped and chatted while patting both dogs. Her dog Molly, was eleven and getting less energetic she told us, also one eye is drooping. A dog is the main lubricant for social interaction, far more so than just us. Without Milo we could be sitting there till Methuselah got home before anyone would come and chat. I suppose, that’s why people have pets, not just for own pleasure but for others as well. There are those who will take the initiative and just about talk to anyone without waiting to be approached first. I am always in awe of that skill and have thought how it is that some can do that without any effort. Fortunately my Helvi has that and it comes naturally even though she is also somewhat shy. There is a laughter as well that comes without any intent or effort. Perhaps it is confidence!

I was lucky. Never mind the Ohms. I mean the definition ” is directly proportional to the potential difference, across it.” I don’t get it!

Yes, that photo is very dear to me. I remember as a very young child sleeping at their home. Granddad was a jovial sort of person full of jokes. He worked as an artist painting murals in many churches.

Yes, that is right. A well known writer and SMH literary critic, Andrew Riemer wrote a book about it; “Inside-Outside. It is about having one foot each way in two cultures. For some it is always a difficult journey reconciling the old with the new. A good read.

Your granddad must have been a wonderful artist.
Peter used to go with Gaby, the daughter, who was in a wheelchair, to a supermarket to help her with her fortnightly shopping. She could not take her dog in there. That meant, I volunteered to babysit her dog. When I sat down with Honey, the dog, beside me, people would come up starting a conversation with me, indicating that they knew Honey and that they knew the lady, Honey belonged to. And of course, lots of people would constantly come up to Gaby, when she was wheeling herself around, with Honey attached to her wheelchair, and they would find it easy to talk to Gaby about Honey and be patting the dog.

Get the dog bit… a guaranteed way to meet people. Ran into an Australian dog yesterday, a Blue Heeler, that was happy to receive everyone’s attention. He was an instant hit. He made you feel good to pet him.🙂 –Curt

We used to have both, red heelers and blue heelers. Great dogs. When living in Sydney many years ago, we had a call that our red heeler dog ‘Sam’ was on a boat ready to sail for China. He used to follow people anywhere and must have done that to a saylor. We quickly drove to the port and got him back.

There’s a nice bloke ( a homeless fellow, he says), who every day sits at the same spot, down the street from where I’m staying in Florence. He has a stunner of a dog, big, with long, soft fur. That made it easy to start to talk to this fellow, without seeming snoopy!

I tried googling him but would know very little of him. would he be Jan Henricus Antonie Joseph Oosterman perchance. Youngest has started a Visual Arts Degree at Sydney. They’ve wanted to be at Art school for years and hopes to be a professional artist.

What a treat seeing your grandfather’s art work. What a talented man, no wonder you have fond memories! There were Oostermans living in Devonport where I grew up, any relation? They belonged to the Presbyterian church where I went as a child.

I doubt they were relatives but it might well be. I far as I know none of our tribe ever went to Devonport. But today there are Oostermans everywhere, my nephew migrated to America and another married a girl from the Philippines and had a child.

Yes, more and more churches are being discovered with his designs and murals. I think an Oosterman Theologian nephew is cataloguing all his work in some sort of book he intends to publish.
Granddad and grandmother had six children including of course my dad. Three boys and three girls. One lived her entire life in Bergen, Norway.